Mental Struggles and Biblical Truths

It was so quiet in the house you could hear a pin drop. The sun had already gone down for the day. My husband and sister in law sat in the other room with their heads bowed listening as I answered questions to the man sitting next to me. My body shook uncontrollably. No matter how deep a breath I took, no matter if I paced the floor or rubbed my arms and legs, I couldn’t get it to stop. My hands and lips tingled and burned. As well as a spot in the front right side of my brain that felt like someone had lit a fire that could not be put out. I could not shut it off, nor had I the ability to do so. All I wanted it to do was stop. The sleep that evaded me for weeks would not come. The nightmares that woke me every 10 minutes when I tried to close my eyes to get some kind of relief left me terrified and living in a time that I did not want to remember and didn’t understand why? Why now? I should feel safe! I should feel good! I should not be out of control! I felt hopeless. This will never end. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t have peace no matter what I try. I tried everything the doctors told me to. I’ve tried dozens of medications, group therapy, sleep schedule, out-patient, test and more tests, cleaning house, exercise, staying busy, detox, surgeries. Nothing worked. Most of all I was afraid. I was afraid I would do something and not realize it, because my mind was begging for relief. I am completely and utterly alone. Yes, I believe in God, and yes, I have called out to him. I have cried, I have begged and pleaded with Him. I work in the church, I live a Christian life, I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs, I have prayed for forgiveness every day. I try to love everyone, be what everyone needs me to be. Hold my head up and hide my pain like a good little girl does, but still I wasn’t safe. I never would have thought my own home would not be safe, but the fact was it wasn’t about the building I was in or the people that lived in it with me. It was about the hollow shell of a body where my mind resided that wasn’t safe. All the trauma my body had endured had left me empty: the sexual abuse as a child, childhood bullying, teenage pregnancy, illness after illness, the surgeries, the countless doctor appointments with professionals that had no answers and treated me as if it was all in my head. The never feeling safe left me feeling as though I had to be on alert for the next thing coming. It is what I have always done. The problem was I had nothing left in me to give. I needed a safe place to get some semblance of rest for my body, but my body was not safe from what my mind may drive me to do. The hardest realization was why? I read my Bible every day. I prayed and asked God to take this from me, I prayed for answers for why my body had so much illness in my 38 years. I prayed for relief from my physical pain, for peace of mind, for help. And I waited. I vowed I would never give up hope that God would bring me through this. How? I did not know and I was scared. I asked my pastor and all he could say was, “God has a reason and He will see you through this, you just got to trust Him”. I know that, but how do I process while I wait? In the midst of this horrible struggle how do I cope?